Mass Effect: The Order
by Anonyomus X
Summary: Commander Gillian Shepard, N7 Special Forces, British Royal Navy, has been tasked with a unique assignment in dangerous times: Get behind enemy lines and obtain valuable information vital to Britain's (and the Alliance's) survival in the war against the Nazis. But from the first, she realizes that the fight is not quite what it seems, and could ultimately force her to make some dif
1. Prolougue

**_Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few._**

- Winston Churchill

* * *

Why was it, Sam wondered as she sat at the kitchen table staring out the window at the frozen surroundings beyond, that whenever opportunity arose for her life just … got in the way? This was supposed to have been a family outing. A visit with grandparents at the family orchard, relatives whom she didn't get to see too often. A chance to play hockey with her older brothers out of doors, like it _should_ be played. A rest from school and homework, a chance to recharge before the beginning of the new semester …

But all of that had changed two weeks before break when a freak accident at school had left her with a dislocated knee (just days before she was to go on the Senior ski trip, too!), immediate surgery for the damaged tendons and two weeks of missed studies as the semester came to a close. Now the two weeks of vacation she'd been counting on would be spent indoors, relegated to sitting around the kitchen table and completing work she had missed.

Tossing her pen atop the notepad in front of her in disgust, Sam shifted and buried her face in her hands, elbows pressed to the table. To top it all off, she had a huge paper due the day she returned to school. Papers. Lovely. She hated research papers. They were horrid things to her way of thinking. Not so much the research - Sam loved learning about things, reading, that sort of thing - but the writing ... How many ways could you regurgitate information without sounding like a monotonous drone? She'd never done well with term papers, the best grade she'd ever received on one was a C+ and that had been pushing it.

The soft 'thunk' of a mug being placed beside her brought Sam back to the present, if not out of her misery completely. Peeking between fingers that still covered her face, she felt a tolerant grin pull at her lips. "Hey, Grandpa," she murmured before lowering her hands.

He smiled warmly. Nodding at the mug, he took a sip from his own and commented, "You looked like you could use some tea."

Sam's eyes brightened. Grandpa always made the best tea. "Thanks," she told him while pushing her notebook and pen to the side. Sniffing at the hot drink, she took a careful sip. "Ooooo, it's the good stuff."

Her grandfather chuckled. "What else would I give my girl but the best, hmm?" he countered.

Sam grinned. Always, he called her 'his girl.' She'd been the first daughter born after several generations of men on both sides in the family. While her brothers seemed to think this was nothing out of the ordinary and her uncles just teased her mercilessly about being the only girl, her grandfather had always regarded her as something extra special.

"You looked as if you were having trouble with your work," he continued, nodding in the direction of her notebook. "Something I can help with?"

Sam sighed and slumped just a bit as the weight of real life settled on her slender shoulders again. "Just … homework," she explained. "A paper that I had due while I was in the hospital."

He nodded in understanding before asking, "What's the topic?"

This time, Sam snorted. After taking another careful sip of the tea, she told him, "That's the thing … I don't know. It's for my history class. I'm supposed to pick a person who's done something that affected the world around them and tell all about them. What the heck does that even mean?" She sighed again. "I mean … _every_one affects the world around them!"

Her grandfather chuckled and held out a hand. Bending his fingers in a 'give it to me' gesture, Sam reluctantly handed over the assignment sheet. He set his tea aside for the moment, cleared his throat and read, "'Choose someone from the era of the Second World War and write a paper featuring how they affected the world around them during a time of crisis.' That doesn't sound so bad," he concluded, handing back the paper.

Sam groaned. "Grandpa," she moaned, "it is! I don't have anyone I can write about! I mean, anyone famous has too much written about them already and would make for a paper that will be too long, and anyone unknown won't have enough available out there." Sighing again, she dropped her head into her hands as she had done earlier. Voice slightly muffled, she finished, "I'm doomed. I never do well on papers anyway. Why should I even bother?"

Sam felt a warmth snake around one wrist and opened her eyes to find her grandfather's hand tightening there gently, tugging lightly to get her to look up. "You bother because it's a school assignment and you are required to do it. As for the doing well … perhaps you just need the right topic to write on."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Weren't you listening?" she asked. "There's no one -"

But he raised his hand in a silencing motion. "Ah, but there is," he informed her.

Sam frowned. "Who?" she demanded.

He sat back in his chair and lifted his mug again. "Let me tell you a bit of a story first, and then you can see what you think."

Sam pondered this a moment before shrugging her shoulders and reluctant acceptance. Reaching for her own mug, she muttered, "What the hell. I've got nothing to lose, do I?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Not at all," he assured her. "Now then, let me see …."


	2. Chances are

The final rumbling echoes of thunder were fading away, rolling off into the distance as the shadows of the late season storm passed, the only evidence of their presence in the first place being small pools of collected drops scattered here and there across the paved lot.

"Hurry up, will you Commander? Night's not getting any younger, you know."

"You're not here for a good time, Gunny," Gillian groused good naturedly as she ducked and dodged puddles and the last of the errant raindrops. "You'd do well to remember that. This meeting is business, not pleasure."

"Pfft," her companion sniffed as she drew her overcoat a bit closer to her slender frame. The chill in the air was the last, thankless gift of the storms. "It may be business as you say, but you _need_ me, Gill. You know that. I know that. Hell, Captain Anderson knows that too, otherwise he wouldn't have agreed to me coming along on this visit, right?"

Gillian pursed her lips together as she climbed the stairs to the doorway, the silence. "Just hush and stay out of trouble, will you, Ash? Whether you agree or not, I _am_ here on business," she muttered.

Ashley froze in her tracks, a move that kept the door behind her propped open, just a bit of outside light seeping into the inner hall. But it was enough for the Ashley to see the Commander's face … and the light pink stain spreading across her cheeks. "You _didn't_ clear it with him first?" she asked in a hushed yet 'pouncing cat who caught the canary' sort of tone. "I came all the way across the Atlantic for this opportunity! I thought it was a done deal! Christ, Gill, what were you _thinking_?"

"I was thinking that Anderson knows me well enough to know that I can choose my partners without his input," Gillian pointed out. That said, she grabbed Ashley by the wrist and pulled her along as she stepped through the curtains separating the inside of the pub from the outer door. Of all the things she had to worry about at this moment, her friend giving her a hard time about alerting her commanding officer about her plans was at the bottom of the list. Nodding off to their right, Gillian murmured, "Go listen to the wireless or something. Just stay out of trouble. I'll call you over when I'm ready."

Ashley grinned. "Hey, I'm the model of propriety … or at least, staying out of trouble. You know better than that, Gill," she teased beneath her breath. Gillian tried valiantly to keep her eyes from rolling as she turned to face the rest of the pub. "And I'm the bloody Queen of England," she muttered. The only sign Ashley had heard was the soft giggle floating back towards Gillian a moment later.

Gillian scanned the room quickly, eyes adjusting to the dimly lit, hazy, smoky atmosphere with little trouble. The acrid stench of cigarette smoke filling her lungs at the moment was actually somewhat comforting as the familiar scents reminded her that she was indeed home. There was a general hum filling the room - voices grouped into discussions, barmaids clearing off tables, the muted thuds as two older men on the far side took each other on in a game of darts all while some of the latest songs played from a wireless up near the bar. Somewhere in the background of the cacophony she heard the tell-tale sound of either snooker or billiards somewhere in the distance. Gillian felt the pull of a smile. _Definitely home_.

She spotted Anderson on the far side of the room, seated at a table rather than a booth, and she began weaving her way through the mass of bodies that filled the common room. Mostly men, majority of them military of one branch or another, Gillian maneuvered her way through with the skill of one used to dealing with the myriad of obstacles that life could throw her way. That she had specialized training to do so was beside the point.

Arriving moments later, Gillian waved off Anderson as he rose to his feet and pulled out a chair for her. Typical for him, he ignored her and waited for her to be seated. "Good to see you, Commander," he greeted her as he retook his chair a moment later.

Before Gillian could answer, one of the barmaids dropped by to take their order. "G & T," she replied immediately. "And make it a double." Anderson's brow lifted in question, but he said nothing as he gave the woman his order. It was only after she'd gone that he finally spoke. "That bad, huh?"

Gillian sighed and nodded while staring intently at her hands now resting before her on the tabletop. "That bad," she echoed solemnly. "Damn near didn't make it out this time."

"Yeah. Admiral Hackett told me about that," Anderson returned. At first, his tone was sympathetic, solemn, but it soon shifted to a bit of admiration as he added, "Also told me about _how_ you managed to get out."

Gillian groaned. _Dammit!_ "Christ!" she hissed softly. "Well, what was I supposed to do?" she demanded, a bit more fiercely than was probably necessary, but still. "I wasn't going to just sit down and die over there!"

Anderson's smile widened. "I never thought you would," he replied in a calm tone. He paused for a moment as the barmaid returned with their drinks and set them down before leaving. "You're a credit to your training, you know. Intelligent, quick thinking, sensible under pressure, and like always, you were successful in your mission."

Gillian scowled and glanced over at him while reaching for her drink. She downed half of it in one gulp, hoping that the alcohol would numb her to the memories his words were stirring up. "Not always," she muttered.

"Look," Anderson broke in before she could say anything else, "Akuze wasn't your fault."

Gillian's eyes darkened, temper and irritation flaring as it usually did when this particular part of her past was brought up. "Is that why you asked me here?" she demanded harshly, leaning just a bit more towards him and keeping her voice low so others wouldn't hear. "To hash that up again? I passed my psych evals, remember? Or … No, I know what it was. My father talked you into -"

"Your father had nothing to do with it," Anderson insisted firmly. "Nor did your brother, so you can just stop there, Gillian. I asked you to meet me here for an altogether different reason."

"Fine." Gillian downed the rest of her first drink, biting back another harsh retort. She wasn't even certain why she was taking out all of her anger and frustration on him, to be honest. That particular mission had gone south not because of him, but because of faulty intel. Plain and simple. Anderson hadn't been involved in it at all. The only thing he'd ever done in concern with the matter was to support her call. Sighing and swallowing back the remaining bitterness, she grasped at the change of topic he'd offered her. "So then, what's your 'altogether different reason?'"

If asked, Ashley would probably have admitted that one of her most favorite places to be when off duty was in a bar … or in this case, seeing as they were in London, a pub. It wasn't so much for the drinking aspect of things (though that was often a bonus depending on circumstances leading up to the visit) as it was because she was a people watcher. Whether alone or with a group, Ash liked to observe people around her and determine just what made them tick. Over the years, she'd become quite good at it and the skills certainly came in handy whenever she was brought in to evaluate new groups of recruits as they moved through the ranks. Hell, even some of her fellow NCOs would ask her opinions on the recruits they couldn't figure out.

First stop in the _Crown and Anchor_ then was the bar to get a beer, or ale she supposed was the appropriate term for it here. As long as it tasted good, she wouldn't be picky. She'd been in country for only a couple of days and was still trying to sort things out. For the most part, all had gone well enough. Crossing the road had been a bit of a challenge at first, but self-preservation instincts (and Gillian's habit of tossing her arm out to block her) had taught her real quick to look right first and then left. Only a few wisecracks had been directed her way when people figured out she was American, but Ashley didn't mind so much … yet, anyway. She'd come over at the request of her friend. A woman she had quickly come to respect and trust even though they were, technically, barely more than acquaintances. It was strange how life in the military, no matter which branch or nationality, helped with that. Survival depended upon it. Those that figured it out sooner rather than later tended to survive longer, too.

Drink finally in hand, Ashley turned so that her back was leaning against the bar. The area was crowded … the entire pub was over crowded, truth be told, but Ash found she was enjoying it. The sights, sounds, even the smells only added to the atmosphere. This place was _hopping_. A quick survey of the room informed her that most of those present were in some branch of the military or another. The majority were men, she noted, though she did spot a few women in uniform. That caused a smile to form as she took a drink. Women on active duty in the service these days was, thankfully, a generally accepted idea. Granted, there were still occasional issues that cropped up from time to time, but for the most part, everyone seemed to see it as a good thing. Which was great, she thought, when one considered what the potential for the future held in store these days.

Across the room, Ashley spotted Gillian seating herself with an older man, presumably Captain Anderson. Ashley had never met the man herself, but she'd heard Gillian talk about him on occasion. Apparently, the man was not just her superior officer, but a family friend.

"I hope you're not working surveillance or something," a smooth baritone interrupted Ash's thoughts at that moment, "otherwise you'll be in for a rude awakening when they meet you at the door as you leave."

Startled, Ashley glanced to her left to find an unfamiliar uniform. Eyes rising to meet his, she was caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. Dark hair, caramel colored eyes and that smooth voice already had her evaluating the rest of his body language. "You sure I'm not here watching out for you instead? Could be they're the bluff and you're the real target," she challenged cheekily.

His smile widened just a bit. "I'm hardly worthy of that sort of attention," he returned. A moment later he observed, "You're American."

Ashley's eyes narrowed, another quick retort on her lips as she began, "And you're …," she frowned as she realized suddenly that his uniform wasn't quite right. A shade too dark, the gold trim at the wrists slightly off, "... not." It was odd … he sounded American, and yet his uniform wasn't. But it wasn't British, either, from what she could tell, though she knew that could be a deception. There were people like Gillian, for example, who were decidedly British in their accent, but when she spoke, it was usually American colloquialisms flowing out. The only thing she could determine from it was that it was navy.

He chuckled. "No, I'm not," he agreed. After another moment in which he allowed her to puzzle about it, he finally relented. "Canadian."

Ashley almost felt embarrassed that she'd not thought of that. "Of course," she murmured. Setting her glass aside on the bar, she turned to face him more fully. Extending her hand, she decided introductions might get them back on track. "Gunnery Sergeant, Ashley Williams."

He took her hand in a firm grip, she noted, shook once and then released it. "Lieutenant, Kaidan Alenko." Nodding towards the far side of the room, he asked, "Should I assume you're with them?"

Ashley chuckled. "Well, you know what they say about making assumptions, LT," she teased easily. When she saw him darken just a bit in embarrassment, she eased off. "To be honest, I'm not sure. I mean, Gill and I arrived together, but I guess I was an afterthought or something, so I don't know." She shrugged and reached for her ale once more. Taking a deep pull from the glass, she glanced over at him and smiled. "I'll find out soon enough, I suppose."

The lieutenant chuckled. "No doubt," he replied. "In the meantime, how about another drink?"

Ashley was surprised to realize as he nodded towards her glass that it was empty. "Can't say no to that, I guess," she replied with a grin while setting the glass back on the bar surface.

Kaidan signaled the bartender for his order, handing one over to Ashley before paying and rejoining the conversation. "Long way from home, Williams," he commented. "Any particular reason you're here?"

Ashley side-glanced him as she took a drink. Shrugging, she replied, "Gill, I guess you'd say. She talked me into coming over. Supposed to be a vacation of sorts, but you know how it is. 'All work and no play ….'" She let the backwards paraphrasing trail off.

Kaidan chuckled. "Workaholic, are you?" he mused, recognizing the saying.

"Maybe … just a little." She rolled her eyes. "Not _nearly_ as bad as Gill, though. Sheesh, you'd think the woman would learn to let up a little after some of the things she's been through."

Kaidan kept his eyes upon the pair at the table though he continued to listen to Williams ramble on. "Gill," he echoed then, a thought occurring to him, "your friend, that is. Is she military too?" He had only a side view of her, but something about the dark ginger curled hair, peaches and cream complexion was striking a familiar chord in him. Or maybe it was the scar he could see on her right temple. Something about it ….

"Gillian?" Ashley repeated. "Hell yeah. Her whole family is military. Followed in her father's footsteps, I guess you could say."

Kaidan's eyes narrowed just a bit more. _Gillian … why does that sound familiar?_ "Gillian?" he repeated, making it a question rather than an echo.

Again, Ashley side-glanced him. "Lieutenant Commander Gillian Shepard. N7 special forces, survivor of -"

Kaidan groaned as it came back to him in an instant. "Akuze. Right." Eyes closing for a moment, he recalled what he'd heard about that horrible mission gone wrong. Didn't matter what branch or nationality you were - anyone in _any_ armed service had heard about Akuze. _Damn_. "Sorry," he added, turning to face her. "I've just never seen her in person before. Only pictures in the paper and such."

Ashley nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean," she returned. Then she grinned. "For what it's worth, LT, I mucked it up good the first time she and I met, too."

It was the amusement in her tone that caught his attention. Brow lifting, he took a drink and asked, "How do you mean?"

"Not sure if your military does the same, but the US Army has the N7's come over to train with us periodically. Strut their stuff, you know? Look at a few potential recruits, too. It is a joint program, after all." Ash saw him nod his understanding. "So, a year or so ago, Gill was the N7 sent to Fort Lewis where I'm stationed out of."

Kaidan felt his eyes widen in surprise. "You're N7?" She didn't strike him as the type for some reason he couldn't quite put a name to, but they were special forces after all. Perhaps he'd missed the clues …?

Ashley barked out a laugh. "Hell no!" she retorted, full grin crossing her features. "I'd never make it through if I tried," she admitted. Offering a sheepish smile, she continued, "I know my limitations, LT. Foreign languages and medical training are two of them. I'll stick with shooting things - it's what I know. Anyway, so Gill comes over to do the training that time. We had, oh … maybe six recruits waiting for her to run through the paces, you know? I'm just there running enlistees through basic. Anyway, word spread, so of course we all found out about it and looked for any and all opportunities to go watch. After all, we could learn a thing or two, right?"

Kaidan nodded, eyes drifting back to the pair seated at the table across the room as he listened.

"It was … unbelievable," Ashley finally finished in a somewhat vague manner. "Sorry. I'm not sure I should go into specifics -"

"Don't worry about it," Kaidan told her. "I figured as much." To be quite honest, he was surprised she'd told him as much as she had.

"I'll just say that she had them working their collective tails off and leave it at that." Ashley set her glass on the bar, finished, and turned to face him again. "Last night there, she and the recruits come to the local drinking establishment." Ashley almost giggled at the phrase. The place had been a dive, just off the base, but it was the one frequented mostly by the soldiers stationed there. "Place is packed. The door opens, Gill leads the way in, recruits following behind. First thing that happens is every single person in that shithole stands to attention and salutes them. Afterwards, she buys the recruits the first round." Ashley crossed her arms as she leaned back against the bar again.

"Did they move on?" Kaidan asked, curiosity getting the better of him in that moment.

She shook her head. "Nope, not a one," she admitted. "But the thing I learned from that experience was that you gained a hell of a lot of respect just for trying." Head still shaking a bit in wonder, she looked over at him again. "Gill told me a bit more about it later. The training, that is. Makes a trip to hell look like a cake walk ..."

Captain David Anderson sat back in his chair, legs stretched out before him under the table, arms crossed somewhat casually over his broad chest and simply waited, dark eyes surveying the woman sitting across from him. It wouldn't take long, he figured. If there was one thing he knew about Gillian Shepard it was that she was not afraid to speak her mind if she was so inclined. In that regard, he knew her to be a lot like her father. Commodore Hugh Shepard and his youngest child didn't often see eye to eye, but were more alike than either cared to admit. The only obvious evidence of Gillian's mother's influence was in her slender build, grey eyes and dark ginger curls. Anderson knew, though, that there were more subtle influences there as well.

A hint of a smile played at the corner of Anderson's lips as he considered all of this. He and Hugh Shepard, along with Steven Hackett, had all met upon joining the Royal Navy. Through the years, some even spent serving together, a long lasting and time and battle- tested friendship had developed. Together through good times and bad. When Hugh had bucked family tradition and married an American woman, Hackett and Anderson had stood beside him before, during and after the ceremony. When Sarah Shepard had passed away in the Spanish Flu epidemic while visiting family in the United States in 1919, again it had been Hackett and Anderson who assisted with the arrangements necessary for family burial in England as well as the retrieval of gravely ill and very young Gillian who had been with her mother in the States at the time.

Hard headed. Determined. Stubborn almost to a fault. Gillian had shown those attributes since birth. They were part of why she had survived the flu epidemic when most others hadn't. As she'd grown, she'd continued to show them, and more. That steadfast determination had gotten her into as many scrapes and situations as it had gotten her out of, no doubts there. Single minded focus on the tasks at hand had helped too. She had an innate ability to scan a situation or scene before her, prioritize her way through it and still survive at the end. Failure was never an option.

_Like father, like daughter_, he thought while barely managing to swallow a chuckle.

She'd been sitting there stiffly, head lowered, eyes on hands that were laced together on the table in front of her. Still silent, Anderson was not concerned. One thing Gillian had over her father, no doubt something she had taken from her mother, was her ability to think a situation through thoroughly before making a decision. Considering all options, all possible outcomes. It was the same reason he'd refused to play chess with her after being defeated when she was twelve.

Greyish-green eyes lifted to meet his then. "I work better alone."

Anderson nodded once. Gillian wouldn't be Gillian without making her point first. He avoided the obvious counter to her argument, dating back to the mission from which she'd almost not returned. "You're a team leader, Shepard," he told her simply. "You're experience is invaluable to training others."

Still, she didn't seem convinced. "We won't be able to be ready fast enough."

Anderson did chuckle at this. "I've no doubt you can whip them into shape fast enough. You're a tough taskmaster," he told her with a slight grin. "And it's not like they won't have any training to start with."

Gillian scowled and glanced away for a moment. That was when he knew for certain he had her. When her eyes met his again, he saw the defiance there, but it was tempered with resignation. "I choose my team," she stipulated.

"Shepard …."

"That's non-negotiable."

Anderson sighed. "Gillian …. Damn if you don't drive a hard bargain just like your old man."

Gillian snorted softly. "Neither insults nor flattery will get you anywhere with me, Anderson. You should know that by now."

"I do." Sitting forward, Anderson gave her a nod. "Alright, fine. _But_ …."

Gillian's eyes narrowed on him then. "But?" she challenged quietly.

"One condition."

"And that is?" Now it was she sitting back, arms crossed.

"I have someone I want you to meet." He saw an eyebrow lift, question mixed with warning. "He will be a part of your team. Non-negotiable. The rest of your crew you decide. No questions asked." Though, he'd have plenty of suggestions, whether she wished the assistance or not. Thing was, she was probably expecting that, too.

Silence fell again, but Anderson was patient. It didn't take long for her to sit back up, uncross her arms and nod. "Alright, Anderson."

"Good." Glancing towards the bar, Anderson spotted who he was looking for and waved him over.

Gillian glanced over her shoulder towards the bar as Anderson gestured. As she turned, she spotted Ash in that direction near the bar talking with someone. Gillian waited for her friend to meet her gaze before she inclined her head just the slightest bit. Ash nodded once before turning to move in her direction.

Turning back to face Anderson again, Gillian reached for the last of her drink and tossed it back. She suspected she was going to need the fortification for whatever might be ahead of her. Anderson was setting up an ambush of sorts, she could tell. Which was also part of the reason she'd called Ash over. If she was going into this meeting unprepared, she wanted backup. It wasn't that she didn't trust Anderson. Fact was, she did. More so than most people, and that included her father. But then again, in a career where her life depended on her gut instinct and the level of trust that she could have in someone, well ….

"Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, Commander Gillian Shepard."

Anderson's deep, rumbling voice brought Gill's thoughts back to her current surroundings. Glancing upwards, grayish-green eyes met amber and for just a moment, Gillian felt her breath catch. She couldn't put a reason to it, but there was something … familiar in those eyes. She saw him straighten for a moment, but he did not salute which she was thankful for in this place. Last thing she needed were the rest of the patrons to start saluting her as well, which she knew they probably would if they knew it was her. At this point of her career, she'd built up a bit of a reputation. "Commander."

Gillian nodded politely, gesturing towards one of the nearby chairs. "Lieutenant," she returned. Ashley joined them a moment later, taking the last empty chair. Glancing over at Anderson, Gillian offered him a slightly cheeky smile as she made her own introductions. "Captain Anderson, my partner, Gunnery Sergeant Ashley Williams." If she lingered on the word 'partner' just a bit longer than necessary, it was only to prove a point. The look and slight nod Anderson gave her in return told her he got the message, loud and clear.

"Gunny," Anderson acknowledged briefly. "Gill, let's keep this simple for now," he continued a moment later, voice dropped so just they could hear him. "This is neither the time nor the place to get into details."

Gillian nodded. "Agreed." Her smile softened to something a bit more friendly. "Tomorrow evening," she suggested. "Dinner. My father's expecting you anyway, I'd imagine," she added, corner of her lips turning upwards just a bit more. Was there ever a time when Anderson was in town that he didn't visit her father? Glancing over at the lieutenant, she arched a brow in question. "Say, six-thirty? Drinks and dinner?"

His smile caught her off guard, to say the very least. For just a moment, Gillian wondered why it was so difficult to breathe. And then reality returned with a good swift nudge of her ankle. "Thank you, Commander," the lieutenant replied as Gillian kicked back at Ashley's foot under the table. Who else would it have been?

Anderson nodded his agreement. "Right then. And yes, Gill, I'll be seeing your father. We both have meetings in London all day tomorrow." Turning towards the lieutenant, he added, "I'll have a car sent around for you to take you out when it's time." After a nod towards Ashley, he faced Gillian one last time as he rose to his feet. "Until tomorrow evening then."

Gillian stood along with Alenko and Williams, all three nodding their salute to the superior officer as he turned to leave. Her eyes trailing after him as he crossed the room, she barely heard the discussion between Ashley and Alenko as they returned to their seats. It wasn't until Ashley called her name for, apparently, a second or third time that Gillian was able to bring herself around to join in the conversation.

"Gill? Hey, you still with us?"

"Hmm?" Gillian dropped her eyes to her hands, felt the heat of a blush staining her cheeks. "Sorry. Thoughts were elsewhere."

"You know the Captain, Commander?" Alenko asked.

Gillian nodded. Glancing over at him, she offered him a smile. "He's an old family friend. I've known him since … oh … forever," she finally added with a soft laugh. "How about you?"

The lieutenant hesitated for a moment before replying. "Going on … maybe … ten years now I think? He's the one who talked me into enlisting."

Gillian grinned. "Funny, that," she mused, "he did the same to me."

Leaning back in her seat, Gillian sighed heavily as the weight of recent events, travel, the day and the conversation she'd just had with Anderson all building up and settled around her. She felt completely and utterly exhausted. She did manage to cover her mouth as a yawn cracked there, though. Even so, Ashley couldn't resist giving her a hard time. "Past your bedtime, Gill?" she teased.

Gillian frowned at her friend, reached out to swat at her somewhat playfully, but instead pulled the hand back to cover her mouth yet again for the same reason as before. "Apparently," she reluctantly admitted as she glanced at her watch. "My body still thinks it's on Munich time. Guess that means you're driving me home, Gunny," she added with a grin. Ashley was staying out at Gillian's father's place with her, after all.

With an over exaggerated sigh, Ashley downed the last of her drink. She knew damned well Gillian would be driving because if she tried they'd be sure to end up in an accident because she chose the wrong side of the road or something. "Right then." Rising to her feet, Gillian watched as her friend nodded at Alenko. "Good to meet you, LT," she told him while extending her hand towards him.

"Likewise," Alenko replied, accepting her hand and shaking it firmly.

Gillian then faced him as she stood. "Nice to meet you, Alenko. We'll see you tomorrow evening then."

Again, as earlier, the smile he gave her seemed to light up his entire face. "Yes, ma'am," he replied as he gave her a firm handshake as well. "Have a good evening."

On the way out to the car, after they'd left the building, Gillian grunted softly as Ashley punched her upper arm. It hit just a bit too close …. "What the hell, Ash?" she protested.

"_That_," Ashley explained as they neared the vehicle, "was for not telling Anderson before we got here." She reached for the door and slipped inside before slugging Gillian's upper arm again, almost the same place.

"Dammit!" Gillian cursed, yanking herself to her left to get out of reach.

"_That_ one was for cutting the evening short."

Gillian snorted as she put the key in the ignition and started the vehicle. "Cutting it short? I'm lucky I got through it as long as I did." That was probably about as close as she would come to admitting just how tired she was. That last mission, the one she'd been returning from just hours after Ashley had arrived in London, at Gillian's request, had not gone well at all. Not only had it left her mentally exhausted, but she was still recovering from a wound she'd received during the mission. When it looked as if Ashley might hit her for the third time in nearly the same place, Gillian turned to face her friend, catching the fist in her good hand. "Don't," she pleaded. "You've made your point. You wanted more time with the Lieutenant. I get it. Really, Ash, I do, and I'm sorry -"

"What?" Ashley choked out before erupting into laughter. "Good God, Gill, that wasn't what I meant at all!"

Gillian frowned and turned her attention to driving. "Then what -"

"Oh, hell … he's had eyes for you since the minute I met him at the bar," she muttered.

Gillian blinked in bemusement. "What? How could he? He doesn't even _know_ me. Or who I am. Or …." Gillian darted a look over at her friend, a nervous expression crossing her face. "Unless you told him?"

"No," Ashley insisted quickly. "Well, not much, anyway," she clarified a moment later. "I mean, he seemed to sort of know you already. Recognized your name before I told him, that sort of thing."

"Uh huh."

Ashley grinned over at Gillian. "So … tomorrow night we'll have to get you dolled up so you can, um, make a good impression."

It was all Gillian could do to keep from swerving off the country road. _Dammit!_ Had it really been so long since she'd been around her friend that she'd forgotten just how … blunt and open with her remarks she could be? "Ash!"

Ashley chuckled heartily and sat back in her seat. "Admit it, Gill … you missed me, didn't you?" she challenged as Gillian continued to drive towards her father's home. She only laughed harder as Gillian began muttering beneath her breath. It was nice to know that, despite the current political climate out in the world, some things really didn't change all that much.


End file.
